Memories
by Raivis-Latvijas
Summary: Memories can alter a person's mind. Montenegro and Bosnia both knew this all too well. Emotions, feelings, wars, and chaos can all leave permanent scars on an unprepared mind. When a mind so set on happiness is altered, how far will Montenegro go to fix his mistakes? BosniaxMontenegro, Yaoi, T for mentions of sex, and some minor violence. Co-written with another author.


**A/N: **This story was co-written over a period of several months with another great author. You'll most likely be able to notice what parts of the writing I did, and what parts she did.

This story involves my Balkan OCs, and centers around the relationship between Montenegro and Bosnia and Herzegovina. There are mentionings of sex, a bit of violence, some minor blood... Nothing too bad. I think you all can handle it.

I apologize in advance for any errors there may be in spelling or grammar. I haven't read this over enough to correct every single error.

Anyways, enjoy the story. We worked very hard, and very loyally to finish this.

**xxxxx**

"Come on, Branko. It's not that bad, is it?" Macedonia complained at Montenegro. The brown-haired Branko was sitting on the edge of the Macedonian's messy bed, face buried in shaky hands.

"Nikodemos, you don't know how guilty I feel... I'm supposed to be loyal to Zlatko..." Branko uttered quietly, receiving a chuckle from Niko, who sat up from his laying position and wrapped his arms loosely around the other man's unclothed waist.

"Oh please, Branko. You've loved me for longer than you've even been with him."

Branko shoved the black-haired man away, shaking his head.

"I've never loved you like I love him, Niko. We may have had something, but it wasn't the kind of love that I share with Zlatko." The Montenegrin stood, feeling Nikodemos' eyes scan over his nude body like the Macedonian always did. Branko felt that was the only thing Niko cared about, was the other's body.

In the dimly lit room, Branko searched for his clothes, getting dressed without matter to the fact that he had worn them the previous day. He still couldn't comprehend the fact that Macedonia had used his charismatic and appealing ways to get him in bed.

"You look so much better without those clothes, Crna Gora." Macedonia commented, standing and pulling on a pair of boxers that had been laying on the floor. Montenegro, motionless due to uncertainty of what to do and where to go, didn't realize that Nikodemos had snaked an arm around his waist and under the pale yellow button-up Branko had retrieved from the floor. When he did take notice of the fact, he made a quick turn from motionless and harmless, to angered and defensive.

He placed a hard punch to Macedonia's smooth jaw line, tainting the pale skin with a quickly-forming bruise; a bruise unlike the marks of so-called love that Niko had left on Branko's body and neck. Macedonia, the more violent and quick-tempered of the two, retaliated with force, grabbing a hold of the front of Branko's shirt and shoving him up against the off-white colored wall.

"If it bothers you that much that you cheated, why the fuck did you have sex with me when you knew the consequences?" Macedonia's pale blue eyes seemed to pierce into Branko's own green ones, causing tears to well up in the Montenegrin's.

"Well?" Macedonia prompted, receiving no answer. "Why, Crna Gora?"

"Because after so long, memories still remain. And memories of how you made me feel those nights I was alone came back to me and made me..." Branko trailed off, unable to even think of completing his sentence.

"Made you what?"

"Made me..." Branko inhaled shakily before continuing. "... want you like I did a long time ago."

Nikodemos smirked in satisfaction. "Now was that so hard? Or must I force more answers out of you?"

Montenegro shook his head.

"Good." Macedonia stated, releasing the other man. "Now if it hurts you that bad to have this secret, go tell Bosnia. I'm sure he'll understand. You give me a call once you've told him. I'm sure you'll be back at his place in no time, so I'll be expecting a call from you soon."

Branko nodded slightly, exiting the bedroom and going to the front door of the home, retrieving his shoes and slipping them on before making a hasty exit.

He meandered around for a long while before actually heading to Bosnia's home; he had to gather up the courage in his heart and mind to actually see Zlatko again face to face. As he entered the home after the long time he had spent out, he dreaded the very moment he saw Bosnia.

"Where have you been, Branko? I was starting to get worried," Bosnia said as he came out of the kitchen, wiping his hands with a dish towel. He looked Montenegro up and down, brows furrowing in worry as he took in his partner's rumpled clothing and shaken expression. "Are you okay? Here, come sit down," Zlatko instructed, taking Branko's clammy hand and pulling him to the kitchen table. "I will get you a glass of water."

As Zlatko disappeared back into the kitchen, Branko slumped into the steady wooden chair. He felt the guilt clogging his lungs, practically filling the air around him like cloying perfume. The brown-haired nation put his head into his hands, breathing in shakily. Every breath he took filled him with regret.

He'd promised Zlatko that he'd be faithful, had comforted the Bosnian when his insecurities about their relationship took hold of his heart. Montenegro knew Zlatko always thought that he'd be the one to ruin their relationship, that Branko would eventually get tired of dealing with his problems and odd bouts of depression. In the end, Zlatko had given him a chance despite his initial reluctance and doubts of his ability to love someone again. Zlatko trusted him, something he knew Bosnia didn't do easily, and he'd ruined it.

Branko looked up as Zlatko gently placed a glass of water in front of him and took a seat across the table from him. They stared at each other silently for a few moments, Branko's eyes red with restrained tears and Zlatko's filled with warmth and worry.

"Has something happened with your boss?" Bosnia questioned softly, concern clear in his tone. Montenegro inhaled through his nose, finding a guilty pleasure in the smell of coffee grounds and freshly made bread.

"No, it's...I have to tell you something, Zlatko."

"What is it?" Zlatko asked, reaching for the other man's hand across the table.

Montenegro opened his hand in acceptance, clutching tightly to Zlatko as he readied his confession and hoped Bosnia would be able to forgive him for his great betrayal.

"I..." He paused, forcing himself to breath through the guilt. "I...cheated on you," Branko confessed quietly, feeling the utter wrongness of the words as they left his mouth.

Everything was silent for a moment, the air tense. Time seemed to pause, caught in the moment when Branko confessed his infidelity. For a second, Branko wished everything could stay in this time, suspended between their past and Zlatko's reaction.

Time, however, never stopped despite man's desperate wishes. Zlatko pulled his hand away from Branko's hold as if he'd just touched acid, fixing the other nation with a look that could freeze ice in a moment.

"With who?" the brown-haired male questioned, tone frigid with calmness. It was a tone Montenegro had only ever heard Bosnia use once before when addressing Serbia for the first time they came face to face after the war.

"I...Zlatko...It was a mistake - "

"With who," Zlatko demanded this time, the expression in his eyes making it clear that he didn't want Branko's excuses.

He only wanted an answer.

"M... Macedonia," Branko answered, fearing the control and calm Zlatko was displaying.

"You told me that there was nothing between you and him anymore."

"I know. There isn't anything between us - it was a stupid mistake. I didn't know - "

"You were not drunk, were you?"

"Well, no, but - "

"Then you knew perfectly well what was going on."

"Please. Let me explain."

"There is nothing to explain, Crna Gora. You cheated while you were in a sound state of mind. There was nothing to impair your judgment."

Zlatko stood from the table, making to walk past Montenegro. The guilty man grabbed Bosnia's strong wrist in his grip, stopping Zlatko from walking away from him.

"Please. Hear me out, Zlatko. He charmed me. The memories - "

Just then, Branko's phone vibrated in his pocket and began to play his favorite song. He reached for it with the hand not holding Bosnia's wrist, freezing as he saw the name on the screen. Bosnia had turned his head toward the noise, taking in Montenegro's actions and suddenly tense body.

"It is him," Zlatko stated, cold anger boiling over into molten fury. He wrenched his wrist from Branko's slackened grip. "Go ahead, answer it," he challenged Montenegro as he moved away. "I am sure he is eagerly awaiting the news that we are no longer together."

"No!" Branko shouted in panic at Zlatko's words, standing from his seat and reaching for the other man. "You can't - No!"

"Do not touch me!" Zlatko yelled, slapping Branko's reaching hands away from his body. "I trusted you not to do this to me! I trusted you not to betray me like everyone else has!"

"Zlatko - !"

"Do not use my name! You have no right to it anymore!"

"This can't be the end! It wasn't meant to be like this! Please!" Branko pleaded desperately, reaching for Zlatko again and succeeding in catching his wrist.

Zlatko swung around, catching Branko under the jaw with a powerful punch. Montenegro stumbled back, releasing Bosnia's wrist and clutching his throbbing jaw. Zlatko's chest was heaving with the force of his fury, green eyes storming.

"Never touch me again," the Bosnian commanded, far angrier than he could remember ever being in a long while.

The pierced Montenegrin almost fell to his knees, seeking to gain Zlatko's forgiveness before he fell apart with regret and they both fell apart with heartache.

"It was a stupid mistake! It'll never happen again! Please, I'm begging you - "

"Enough!" Zlatko shouted. "I have heard enough," he said, softer this time and tone back to the iced-over fury from before. "Get out."

"Zlatko, ple - "

"Get out," Zlatko demanded once again, turning away from the pleading nation. "I cannot stand to look at you anymore."

Montenegro stood on shaky legs, head down and posture defeated as he walked past Bosnia and out of his house. Zlatko took a deep breath as he heard the front door shut softly, fighting to keep the stinging tears built up in his eyes from traveling down his cheeks.

He had nothing to cry for.

At least that's what he told himself.

* * *

Making it to Serbia's home without completely breaking down was a feat in it's own for Montenegro. Branko, with a shaky hand, knocked at the door a few times. After a few moments of standing, waiting for an answer, the blonde-haired man Branko knew as Novak opened the door, a lit cigarette hanging from his lips.

"Crna Gora? What're you..." Serbia's emerald eyes looked over Branko. "Are you okay?"

"S-Srbija... I-I... I need h-help..." Montenegro could hardly get the words out of him mouth. Novak, concerned for his friend, opened the door wider.

"Please, come in... Have a seat in the living room. I'll be there in a second."

Branko nodded slightly and walked inside, heading to the living room. He sat down on the dark blue couch, burying his face in shaky hands. His breathing was unsteady; he had no clue how Serbia would react to something like news of Branko being unfaithful, when he was known to be incredibly loyal and devoted to caring for Bosnia.

Serbia returned to the other man after putting out his cigarette, exhaling smoke from his lungs before going over to Branko. Sitting next to the Montenegrin, he placed a gentle hand on his back.

"You look terrible... What happened?"

"I-I... I cheated on him." Branko uttered. Serbia went wide-eyed, unsure if he had heard the shorter man correctly.

"You cheated on Bosnia?"

Branko could only nod; speaking of his infidelity hurt him more than the worst of physical pain.

"With who?"

"N-Niko..."

"I thought that you and Macedonia ended your relationship a long time ago."

"W-We did end it.. I-I just... H-He..." Montenegro struggled to talk, and Novak understood, considering how upset the other seemed.

"Just slow down, Crna Gora... Take deep breaths. Explain to me what happened at your own pace; start from square one, alright?"

Branko nodded, forcing himself to take a few semi-deep breaths and calm himself enough to where he could explain to Serbia what had gone wrong.

"I had gone to Niko's... t-to talk with him just as friends. Just to catch up, y-you know? And... Well... Macedonia is very charismatic, and... he just... he kept complimenting me, and just... It reminded me of when... of when he and I were together, and he would always do his best to make me feel good... The memories j-just... took over a-and... Nikodemos got me into his bedroom eventually, a-and... I-I just... gave in, and let him take me... I-I don't know why I did it... I got u-up in the morning and realized my mistake... a-and I felt terrible for doing that wh-when I had promised that I-I would stay loyal to Bosnia..." Branko took a few more breaths before continuing. Serbia listened carefully, taking in every detail he could of the story Montenegro told him.

"I went back to Zlatko's after a long while o-of just wandering around trying to gather up the courage to tell him that I cheated and... When I got there he was very concerned because of how upset I was... a-and... when I told him I cheated on him with Macedonia...G-God, Novak, I've only seen him that mad a few times... I-I tried to explain to him but... H-He wanted nothing to do with me, and made me leave... I-I didn't know where to go, s-so I came here..."

Serbia sighed. "If he would just listen to you, he would understand, but of course he has to go and freak out..."

"N-Novak, please... I need you to help me h-here, not go against Bosnia because of his anger... H-He has every reason to hate me a-after what I did, when I promised him that I'd always be loyal to him and take care of him..." Branko pleaded.

"Right... Well... You've got yourself in quite a situation here..." Novak chuckled slightly, shaking his head. "I... I would say that I could try talking to Bosnia, but I'm sure I'm the last person who he wants to hear from now."

The two sat in silence for a few moments before Serbia snapped his fingers.

"I've got it! I'll talk to Macedonia and have him talk to Bosnia and tell him that it was his mistake. If Nikodemos cares about your happiness, he'll try his best to get you and Zlatko back together."

"... What makes you think Niko will listen to you?" Branko asked, knowing Macedonia's hostility towards nearly every other ex-Yugoslav that wasn't Montenegro.

"Uh... I think I can convince him."

"Please don't do anything brash or violent..."

"I'm not going to go hurting anyone. I truly care for your happiness, even if it is at the expense of my sanity. I can't tell you how much I despise the fact that you care for Bosnia this much. But, if it makes you happy, I'll do what I can to get Bosnia to forgive you."

"Thank you, Novak... I-It means a lot to me..." Branko wrapped his arms around the blonde-haired man in a tight hug. Novak couldn't help but smile slightly.

"You're welcome. Now you just rest here at my place while I head to Niko's and talk to him. Hopefully this'll work out."

Montenegro layed down on the couch as he heard Serbia shut the front door. He took slow breaths, closing his eyes to try and shut out the last moments of his time with Bosnia, to try and forget how betrayed Bosnia looked.

It was true Zlatko was a tough man to love and tended to be awkward when it came to emotions, but he'd been trying to show Montenegro that he cared in his own ways. Those ways weren't all that obvious most of the time, and even Montenegro sometimes had trouble catching Bosnia's gestures of affection.

Macedonia was, in ways, the complete opposite of Bosnia. The blue-eyed nation was more obvious when it came to his gestures of affection, and where he was charming Bosnia was awkward. It was easy to love of man like Macedonia and hard to let him go, but Montenegro had thought he succeed before this. However, their night had been less love than lust, more convenient than meaningful, and because of his decision Montenegro had ruined the relationship he waited twenty years to rekindle.

He twisted the ring he'd put back on his finger, the one Zlatko had given him. Two times their now had ended. Branko hadn't wanted things to end like this, hadn't wanted things to end at all because their second now was meant to be their forever.

Zlatko's cold gaze filled his mind, freezing over any hope he'd had that they could get passed this. Bosnia would move on, that Montenegro knew because Zlatko had already lived through so much, too much, to be destroyed by one relationship. However, Montenegro, always the romantic, would wallow in his own misery, morn for the love he'd betrayed.

Montenegro shut his eyes tighter until nothing was left of Zlatko's frigid gaze and only empty blackness remained.

* * *

Zlatko sat at his kitchen table, his head balanced in his hands and a vodka bottle opened in front of him. Maybe drinking was the wrong way to deal with the pain he was feeling now, but it helped to get his raging emotions back to the numbness they'd been reduced to before Montenegro came along.

Branko had made Bosnia feel the warmth he'd been missing since the end of the war, always wrapped in remorse as he was and fighting to right the wrongs that'd been done to all the people of his country in the 1990's. Bosnia had always seemed to fall short of making everything right no matter how hard he tried, and sixteen years of hearing people whisper about how Bosnia was too fractured to function had taken its toll on his soul.

Branko's presence in his life, the warmth and support he provided finally made Bosnia feel like he'd done something right in his life. With Montenegro, he wasn't "that country", the one everyone expected to fall under the pressure of "age old blood feuds". With Montenegro, Bosnia was a person who deserved more than sympathy and whispers of "it won't be much longer".

He should have known nothing good lasted in his life. He should have pushed away when Montenegro pushed forward. He should have strengthened his defenses when he first felt the warmth of forgotten memories.

But he hadn't.

And now he realized it when the damage had already been done.

Zlatko took a drink of his vodka, reflecting on all the things he should have done and feeling a bitter sting in his soul. All things thought too late to be helpful against the pain of betrayal.

Bosnia told himself he would get passed this, move along and reconstructe the pieces of his heart Branko had smashed to tiny shards. He was good at that. After all, he had done it enough times before.

* * *

When Serbia arrived at Macedonia's, he knew what a risk he was taking by even getting involved in the dispute that had occurred between Nikodemos, Branko, and Zlatko.

Tapping his knuckles on the door, he knocked on the entrance to Macedonia's. After a few long moments, the black haired man known as Niko answered, crossing his arms and scowling when he saw Serbia standing outside.

"What the fuck do you want?" Macedonia asked, hostility flowing in his voice.

"You know what I'm here for." Serbia answered, emerald eyes glaring into the shorter man's icy blue ones.

"Actually, no. I don't know what you're here for." Nikodemos stated.

Serbia took a step forward, shaking his head. "You think Montenegro wouldn't come to me for comfort when Zlatko kicked him out for cheating?"

Niko chuckled. "I didn't think Bosnia was so heartless."

"So why did you coax him into having sex with you when you knew very well that he was with Bosnia?" Serbia questioned.

"Surely you must know what it's like to have him under you, begging for more. You must know how it feels to kiss him, and touch him how he likes." Macedonia's devilish smile showed how little he cared about what he had done.

"That's beside the point, Nikodemos. Do you have any clue how hard it is to get Montenegro back to his old self after he's gone through something like this?" Serbia's fury showed as his voice became slightly louder and his posture became stiff.

"Take it easy, Novkovic. It's not like Bosnia doesn't deserve to be cheated on after he took Branko from me." Macedonia said, matter-of-factly.

"As far as I'm concerned, you and Crna Gora weren't together anymore when he first got with Bosnia." Novak stepped forward once more, forcing the other man to back up slightly.

"Hey, back off, Serbia. I'm sorry if I loved Montenegro back then." Nikodemos was merely lying. It was easy to tell for anyone who knew the typical nature of the Macedonian.

"Bullshit. I don't want to hear your excuses. Now you better go tell Zlatko that it's your fault Montenegro cheated. I can't stand seeing Branko so upset, and I can't stand the fact that you're the cause." Novak uncrossed his arms and placed them by his sides, keeping his hands in tight fists.

"Back the fuck off. If you think you're going to start shit with me, think again. I know Crna Gora wouldn't want you getting violent." Macedonia practically taunted Serbia, and it set off the bomb that was Novak's temper.

Novak launched a hard punch to the face of the other man, succeeding in busting the nose of the Macedonian.

Nikodemos stumbled back, but put his fists up to fight. They scuffled, but Serbia, being the larger and stronger of the two, easily beat the shorter man into fleeing to the other side of the room.

"A-Alright, alright! Stop! I-I'll tell Bosnia it was my fault!" Macedonia pleaded, a hand partially over his bleeding face. His nose had been broken, and he now had a bruise darkening around his left eye, along with a rough cut over his eyebrow.

"Good. Now, if I find out you fucked things up worse later on after you talk to Bosnia, you'll have hell coming your way. Got it?" Serbia threatened. Macedonia frantically nodded.

"Good." With that, Novak exited the home, heading back to his own residence. When he walked in, he sighed heavily. He hadn't meant to get violent, but it was the only way you were going to persuade someone as cocky and argumentative as Macedonia.

Looking at the red specks on his knuckles, Serbia shook his head, heading to the kitchen sink to wash the evidence of the fight away. He hoped Branko wouldn't ask any questions.

Of course, he had no luck concerning the questions. Montenegro appeared in the archway to the kitchen just as Serbia was turning on the sink to wash the evidence of the fight from his skin. Branko's eyes were red, his hair was a mess, and he was still wearing the clothes he'd left Macedonia's house in. All in all, the Montenegrin was a right mess and Serbia couldn't help but feel pity for the younger man.

"You got into a fight with him, didn't you?" Montenegro asked, but he didn't seem to be angry, just resigned. The only anger he had left was directed toward himself because he'd caused this mess and now he didn't know how or even if he'd be able to fix it.

"He provoked me," Serbia said in way of explaining, pumping out soap from the bottle settled next to the sink.

Montenegro simply sighed, collapsing into a chair at Serbia's kitchen table. "What did Macedonia say?"

"He said he'd speak to Bosnia and tell him it was all his fault," Serbia said as he joined Montenegro at the table, placing one of the recently opened beers he'd gotten from the fridge in front of his neighbor nation.

"And you only had to beat agreement out of him," Montenegro responded sarcastically, taking a drink of the alcohol.

"If only it worked every time," the blonde-haired nation replied with an over exaggerated sigh.

Montenegro's lips quirked up slightly at the rather sardonic joke, but quickly flattened into a thin line again as he thought about the possibilities that could result from Macedonia going to speak with Bosnia.

"What if Zlatko still won't take me back after Macedonia explains everything?" he asked quite miserably, looking down at the beer as he sloshed it around in its brown-glass container.

"I'm not going to lie to you, Branko," Serbia told him, staring seriously at the forlorn nation. "There's a very high possibility that Bosnia won't take your back. He's stubborn, that's common knowledge. Even if Macedonia does end up taking all the blame for what happened, Bosnia will still assign you part of the responsibility in his mind."

"I know," Branko agreed, sighing heavily. "I really fucked up with Zlatko, and know I don't know what to do. I don't want to let him go, but he'll keep pushing me back."

"That is what he does best, push and push until there's enough space between you and him to span from one end of the world to the other. He's hurt too much - we all have - to just let it go."

* * *

With bandages on his battered face, Macedonia was slightly embarrassed for anyone to see him in such a condition, even if it was someone he inevitably didn't like.

When Zlatko opened the door after Nikodemos' knocking, the taller Bosnian seemed both shocked and infuriated by the very presence of the Macedonian man.

"Why are you here, Macedonia?" Zlatko demanded.

"To explain." Niko responded simply.

"What's there to explain? Crna Gora obviously loves you more than he does me." Bosnia crossed his arms over his chest, glancing away from the other man's eyes.

"What Branko and I did... It's not love. We may have been together in the past, but it was never anything real. It was really just for company, and for sex. What happened last night was my fault." Macedonia sighed heavily; he didn't want to say it was his fault, but all in all, it was.

Bosnia looked back to the other man, brow furrowed. "How so?"

"All I cared about when he visited was getting him in bed again. From the first minute he walked in, I flirted and kept mentioning things that I shouldn't have. I know Crna Gora loves you. He really does. But there are memories he has that alter his state of mind. If I tell him about the things we did in the past, it's not hard to get him to do those things again. It's like your mind is. Certain things people say can change the way your mind is for a period of time. Like if I mention Srebrenica." Niko explained. The mentioning of the Srebrenica Massacre obviously struck a note within Bosnia, and caused the man to take a step back.

"You can understand how memories work much more then even I can... Branko... He's in horrible condition right now... Serbia came after me because of it. I'm already paying for my mistake. I just want Crna Gora back to his old self... I may not love him, but you do. And if you really care about him, you'd take him back. This was my mistake. Not his." Macedonia took a step forward and placed a pointed finger on the center of Bosnia's chest. "I know you're hurting. And it's not Branko's fault. It's mine, Zlatko."

Bosnia seemed frozen in time, dull green eyes locked with Macedonia's icy blue ones.

"... I... need some time to think." Zlatko murmured, looking down. Macedonia nodded and dropped his hand.

"Think all you need, but just know that this entire situation is my fault. Branko did nothing wrong."

Bosnia now nodded.

"I'll see you at the next meeting. Take it easy, Bosnia." With that, Nikodemos turned around and left. Bosnia shut the door and sighed shakily; he couldn't possibly take Montenegro back... could he?

Bosnia walked back to his place at his kitchen table unsteadily, feet heavy with the combined weight of Macedonia's explanation and the half-bottle of vodka he consumed. He didn't have any idea of what he was going to do. Macedonia said that if he really cared Montenegro that he would take him back, but it was never as easy as that.

Zlatko had been so close to allowing the Montenegrin a place in his empty heart. He'd been so close to finally letting someone in after years of isolation and fear that if he did open up to someone, his heart, perpetually broken as it was, would finally shatter into unworkable pieces. The Bosnian had been close enough to letting Montenegro in that his empty heart still burned with the pain he shouldn't have felt for a loss so small in comparison to previous ones.

As he sat at the kitchen table with a half-empty vodka bottle, he couldn't help but think that this small loss was causing a disproportionately large impact on him. He shouldn't be feeling like this. The end of his relationship was nothing like the war or the struggle to rebuild. It was minuscule. Or, at least, it was supposed to be minuscule.

Even if he forgave Branko, Zlatko knew that the incident would always be lurking at the back of his mind. He also knew that part of him would always but a portion of the blame on Montenegro. It would be a stain that he feared could never be removed from their relationship, at least not fully, and as a consequence Bosnia would never be able to invest all of himself into the relationship.

Then their was the issue of Montenegro to worry about also before he could reach a decision on what to do in response to this incident. Serbia had once told Bosnia that Montenegro looked at him as if Bosnia was everything to Montenegro. Through their relationship, Montenegro had put up with his mood swings, the fact that he sometimes went a whole day without food or drink, and the lack of attention he would give Branko when he was working. Montenegro understood Bosnia's need to prove all the countries that had said he was to fractured to function wrong, and though he sometimes didn't like the way Bosnia went about caring for himself in the process he accepted it.

The mood swings, drinking, occasionally snarkiness and sarcastic comments, his near habit of chain-smoking, and his passive-aggressive tendencies were all a part of who Zlatko was. It was his most undesirable qualities, and not many people had been able to put up with them for an extended period of time. Montenegro had stuck through them, controlled his anger when Bosnia's backhanded comments unintentionally became directed at him.

Montenegro had been more committed to making their relationship work than Bosnia, he would admit that. But Bosnia had wanted it to work, and Montenegro cheating had hurt him too much for him to understand the things he was feeling now, let alone think through it.

His thoughts felt to jumbled. Nothing was making sense. This little incident was causing too much hurt for Bosnia to work through, and the alcohol wasn't helping.

* * *

Bulgaria walked at a somewhat hasty pace towards Bosnia's home; they had plans for the day. Apostle had called the day prior, asking Bosnia if he would come over for a drink or two to catch up. When the Bosnian hadn't showed up, Bulgaria knew something had to be keeping Zlatko from leaving his home. He supposed it wasn't anything too major; perhaps he was simply too tired, or just occupied with something more important, but if that was the case, surely Bosnia would have called him and said so.

He arrived at the quiet home, rapping his knuckles on the door. He was worried about Zlatko. Was the Bosnian sick? After waiting a few moments with no answer, Apostle knocked once again. Wouldn't Montenegro have answered the door by now, if Bosnia was incapable of doing so?

Around five minutes passed with a few more knockings at the door, and by now, Bulgaria was concerned enough to place his hand on the door handle and open the entry way. This worried him more, because usually, the door was locked.

"Bosnia? Montenegro? Anyone here?" He called out. He looked around, noting the empty bottle of vodka sitting on the kitchen counter. Someone had been drinking quite a bit. Perhaps Zlatko was just hungover?

Bulgaria looked around the home some more; all the lights were off, and no electronics ran. Bosnia's cell phone lay on the coffee table in the living room, with a second bottle of vodka, this one tipped over, some of the clear alcohol spilled over the table and floor, some remaining in the bottle. Now that was something that concerned Apostle. Both Bosnia and Montenegro were practical "neat-freaks" and kept everything tidy.

But then, Bulgaria heard alarming sound. A whimper. Focusing on the sound, he realized that there was crying coming from one of the rooms. It sounded far too much like Bosnia. Apostle walked towards the crying, finding out quickly that it came from inside Bosnia's room.

"Bosnia?" Bulgaria knocked at the bedroom door. "Bosnia, it's Bulgaria. Are you alright?"

More crying.

"Zlatko, please answer me. Did something happen?"

"H-How could he do this t-to me...?" Finally, words from inside the room.

"How could who do what?"

"C-Crna Gora... H-He... cheated on me... W-Was I not enough for him? Am I r-really that bad?"

"Bosnia... Zlatko, I'm sure he didn't mean to..."

"H-He was sober wh-when he did, Apostle. H-he knew what he was doing!"

"Can you open the door for me, Bosnia? Let's talk about this... Can you please open the door?"

"Wh-What's the point of talking anymore...? E-Everyone just takes my heart and crushes i-it... every god damn time... I-I don't know why I bother t-to live like this..."

"B-Bosnia! Please, let me help you. All you have to do, is open the door."

After a few moments, the lock on the door clicked, and the door was slowly opened to reveal a shirtless, disheveled Bosnia. Zlatko's dull green eyes were reddened and swollen from crying, and to the shock of Bulgaria, a few deep gashes resided on the underside of his forearms.

"Z-Zlatko..." Bulgaria muttered, covering his mouth with a shaky hand. The sight of the crimson liquid running from Bosnia's wrists sickened him and made him want to step away in a horrified state.

"I-I can't feel anything anymore, Apostle." Bosnia's lips curved into a sad smile. "N-Nothing matters anymore."

"Z-Zlatko... L-Let's get you to a hospital... E-Everything is going to be alright, okay? I'll help you get things resolved, and you can just calm down... Come on..." Bulgaria reached for one of Bosnia's bloodied hands and attempted to guide him out of the room and furthermore the home. He had no such success in getting him out though.

"Bosnia, please... J-Just come with me. I-I'm going to get you help." Bulgaria pleaded. Bosnia shook his head.

"I don't want help... I've been helped enough, and each time I let someone help me, they just turn on me... You'll just hurt me more in the end."

"Zlatko, you know I wouldn't do that to you!" Bulgaria placed his hands on the shoulders of the slightly taller man. "Not everyone will hurt you! People like me; all we want is for you to be okay! You hear me, Zlatko? I know this isn't you, so come on, get out of this madness... I don't want to lose a friend like you."

Zlatko's eyes widened, and he stared at Bulgaria for a few moments before looking down, lips quivering. "I-I don't know what to do... Apostle..."

"J-Just let me help you, Zlatko... Let's get you to a hospital and get you patched up, and then we'll talk about this, okay...?"

Bosnia nodded slightly, and Bulgaria could tell that he was trying hard to resist the tears stinging at his eyes.

* * *

"Thank you," Bosnia finally said after the doctor had left the room. His green eyes were downcast, gaze fixed on his upturned palms and bandaged wrists. "For - for pulling me out of my depression."

Bulgaria shifted in the uncomfortable red-plastic hospitable chair settled next to the bed Bosnia was sitting on. "I've seen you depressed, Zlatko, but never to the point you'd do something like this. What happened between you and Montenegro?"

"I thought I told you back at the house. He..." Bosnia didn't want to say it, didn't want to be reminded of what Montenegro had done.

"Cheated?" Bulgaria supplied, and Bosnia nodded in confirmation. "Yes, you told me that, but not what lead up to...this."

"I do not feel like discussing it," Zlatko replied, voice hardening.

"Telling someone will help," Bulgaria suggested, careful to keep his tone gentle.

"When has it helped before?" Bosnia snapped, anger abruptly rising. He bit his lip, sighing heavily as he fought back his anger. "Sorry, I did not mean to snap at you. It is not your fault I am here."

"No, it's alright. Your hurting, I understand that. But I've never seen you so..."

"You can say it."

"So...broken."

Bosnia laughed at that, the sound bitter and full of something Bulgaria couldn't understand. "Is that not what I have been for the past seventeen years." It wasn't really a question, just a harsh musing. "I knew I should have never allowed...him a place in my life."

His words were more directed to himself than to Bulgaria, but Bulgaria listened anyway because he learned that Bosnia often disclosed his deepest thoughts in moments like these.

"My life does not have places for other people," Zlatko spoke sullenly, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes to keep the stinging tears at bay. He wouldn't cry. There was no reason to cry. Everything had already been said and done.

"You should sleep," Bulgaria whispered softly, feeling an ache in his chest at Bosnia's words. "Those pain killers the doctor gave you are strong, and he'd said they'd keep you overnight just in case something goes wrong."

"In case I do something else stupid, they mean," Zlatko scoffed lightly, doing as Bulgaria suggested and getting under the covers and closing his eyes. It'd been a long day, and the pain killers had made him too drowsy to keep his eyes open.

"Sleep well," Apostle said as he got up from the stiff molded-plastic chair and walked to the door. He took one last, long look at Bosnia's back before he shut off the lights and left the room, closing the door to the private room softly as he went into the hallway.

Bulgaria paced down the uncomfortably small passage - up and down, up and down, up and down - as he took out his cellphone and dialed Montenegro's number. If Bosnia wasn't going to give him the answers he wanted, Montenegro would.

"Hello?" Montenegro sounded much more tired than usual when he picked up the phone.

Bulgaria guessed he was just as worn down and wary as Bosnia, but that didn't mean he would go easy on Montenegro. "What the hell happened between you and Zlatko? He - "

"You're with him?" Montenegro interrupted, voice lifting instantly. "Is he okay?"

"Is he okay?" Bulgaria repeated the question as if it was an affront to his very person. "No, no, he isn't okay. He almost sliced his wrists in two. What - "

"What?" the other man cut off Bulgaria once again. "He didn't - Zlatko would never - "

"He did. I took him to the hospital. He'll be fine, but I want to know what happened between you two to make him do this."

"He - He didn't tell you?" Montenegro seemed genuinely surprised, as if he expected Bulgaria to be privy to everything that included Bosnia.

"Well, I wouldn't be asking you if he did, would I? All he told me was that you cheated."

Branko sighed, the sound heavy and laden with guilt. "If Zlatko didn't tell you, I'm not sure - "

"Just tell me," Bulgaria demanded, voice hard with the determination to get the explanation he wanted. "I care for Zlatko, too. I have a right to know what's going on, especially after I saved him from bleeding out. I'm involved now, and you will tell me what happened because he means as much to me as he does to you."

Branko paused for a few moments before responding to Bulgaria. "I... I guess you do deserve to know... Well... I guess I start with how it all started, huh?" Another pause. Montenegro thought hard at how to explain to Apostle what had occurred.

"I had gone over to Macedonia's as just a friend... I just wanted to catch up; to talk with him, you know...? I hardly got in the door before Niko started being his charismatic self, flirting and complimenting me... He and I had been together a long time ago, and... he kept bringing things up like what we used to do... How much I loved him and his body..." Branko's voice became shaky as he continued.

"I-I guess all those memories just... temporarily changed me... I-It started with him grabbing my hand, and getting really close to me... A-At first it was innocent enough; I wanted to pull away, but what he kept telling me, what he kept saying... i-it's like his words intoxicated me and made me forget even being with Bosnia... Things went from him simply grabbing my hand, to his hands o-on my hips a-and... G-God, I don't know what the fuck I was doing..."

"I-In the morning, I woke up a-and realized what I had done... I-I... I had cheated... a-and the guilt just... i-it hurt, and I wasn't going to hide my infidelity from Bosnia... H-He deserved to know how stupid I had been to g-go and wind up having sex with Nikodemos... Wh-When I told him, and he found out that I-I had been sober and in a stable condition... H-He became furious a-and... I-I tried to explain, but... he kicked me out b-before I could..."

Bulgaria leaned against the wall in the hospital, surprised at how upset it made Montenegro to speak of what he had done.

"So you feel this wasn't your fault as much as it was Macedonia's?" He asked.

"I-It's my fault as well, but Macedonia... He's the one who... used my m-memories against me."

"... I don't know what to say." Bulgaria muttered. "You really screwed up."

"I-I know... I just w-wish that Bosnia would let me explain... I-I never wanted to hurt him; i-it took so long to get him to open up and... I-I had promised him that I wouldn't do anything to harm him... but... I-I did and... I'm suffering because o-of my actions... Bosnia... I-I never thought he'd end up in the hospital because of something I caused..."

"... You know how unstable he is. I do as well, though... slitting his wrists as bad as he did... I never suspected he would do that, even with something like this. Then again, he trusted you with his heart, and you broke that trust."

"I-I know I did, Apostle... If it makes anyone happy, I'll take all the blame... I-I just want Bosnia t-to be okay..." Branko couldn't talk anymore; he struggled to form any coherent sentences due to his attempts to hold back his sobs.

Bulgaria sighed heavily. "Thank you for telling me what happened, Montenegro. I'll talk to you soon." He hung up the phone, knowing the lack of control in Branko's voice showed that the other nation couldn't speak easily.

Apostle stood there against the wall, pondering to himself what to do. It seemed that Montenegro, in-fact, hadn't meant to cheat on Zlatko, but even so, that didn't make him any less guilty. Though Branko had said that Macedonia had charmed him with memories and pretty much altered his state of mind; Bulgaria didn't precisely know what to believe.

With a heavy sigh, Bulgaria pushed off the wall and went back into the darkened hospital room. He was still able to make out the objects in the room, seeing that it was dusk and the curtains on the window were still open, so Bulgaria made it through the room and to Bosnia's bed with relative ease.

Bulgaria retook his uncomfortable seat next to Zlatko's bed, staring at the other nation's face, half-turned in his direction. Even in sleep, Bosnia's brow was furrowed with stress and his breathing was labored, as if some invisible force was making it hard for him to properly draw breath. Worried for his friend, Bulgaria took Bosnia's limp hand in his grip, hoping that the soft touch would be enough to calm Bosnia into a restful sleep instead of a troubled one.

Bosnia gave an odd twitch, seemingly trying to escape someone's invisible grip. His breathing slowed, stopped momentarily, and then picked back up at a frantic pace. "Ne...Molim...Sto..." He started to mutter in Bosnian, his voice whisper-soft and barley audible.

Bulgaria stroked Bosnia's brown hair gently, caressing Zlatko's still-limp hand with his thumb to try and calm him and pull him from whatever terror was gripping him in his sleep. "Shh...Shh...I'm here, Zlatko."

"Branko..." Zlatko called, gripping Bulgaria's hand in his own. "Don't leave me...Don't leave..."

Bulgaria's heart broke a little to hear Bosnia calling Montenegro's name in his terror, searching for the absent man to give him comfort from the shadows of his past. "I'm here and I won't leave you," he whispered, pressing a kiss to Bosnia's furrowed brow. "I won't leave you."

Bosnia's breathing slowed again, steady now, and his brow relaxed. The terror was gone for now, but Bulgaria wondered if it would return later in the night and worried that it was more than likely it would.

Apostle had to find some way to fix this. He couldn't stand to see Bosnia so unstable. To see the man, one of the few people dear to his heart, breaking in front of his very eyes, crumbling away after he worked so hard to stay alive and prove to the world he could be more than they believed he could.

But how would he fix it? He could call Montenegro to come here and talk things through with Bosnia, but he knew Zlatko would most likely be unwilling to speak to Branko. He could think of little else to due, but the idea still put him on edge. He''d have to find another way or be prepared to mediate the exchange between Bosnia and Montenegro - if Bosnia would even agree to have a conversation with Montenegro, which was unlikely at the present moment.

* * *

Montenegro sat on the couch at Serbia's household, hands clasped in front of his face, elbows propped up on his knees. He had just gotten off the phone with Bulgaria and in the conversation with Apostle, he had broken down once again. He had calmed down enough to regain his ability to speak properly and take a drink of the bottle of beer sitting in front of him.

"You know, Crna Gora..." Novak started as he entered the room. "If you don't want to go back to your home, you can stay here for as long as you need. You're always welcome here. After all, we have been close friends for quite a long time. I know that I'll never hurt you." The blonde man sat next to the upset Montenegrin, smiling slightly and placing a hand delicately on his shoulder. Branko sighed, glancing to the Serb.

"I really question you sometimes, Novak..." He muttered.

"Question me? Why?" Novak asked, raising an eyebrow, green eyes looking at the pierced man curiously.

"You hate everyone I'm usually with, and always like for me to stay here... What's your motivation? We may have known each other for the longest time and be really good friends... but there has to be an ulterior motive for you wanting to have me near you so much."

Serbia chuckled, smiling. "You think I have an attraction to you, don't you?"

Branko nodded quietly.

"Nothing romantic, Crna Gora. Nothing romantic. You're just a very close friend, and knowing how easily broken you are when it comes to relationships, I just want what's best for you. To be honest, Macedonia has always been a horrible man to everyone. He's always just used you for sex."

"Yeah... Sadly."

"And Bosnia... I'm shocked you can love him with the way he is. He's just so broken... He's completely paranoid at best. I mean, he's got so many scars, and so many things that torment him. I'm surprised he hasn't rubbed off on you and tainted you with his insanity."

Montenegro's muscles tensed. "Shut up."

"All I'm saying is the truth." Serbia defended. "He's more unstable on a regular day than I am on my worst of days."

Branko grit his teeth, and repeated his prior words. "Shut. Up."

"I mean, really Branko, you could do so much better than Zlatko. Trust me, I'd know."

Montenegro promptly shoved Serbia away and stood. "You don't know a fucking thing!"

"Branko-"

"You don't know how he really is! All you see is the negatives; I see the positives! His memories may torture him, but I create new memories for him! Things that he can look back on and smile for! I don't care if you approve of Bosnia and I being together or not! You're so fucking shifty, I can't even begin to form an opinion on whether you want me to be happy, or if you just want to crush my heart!"

Serbia now stood, clenching his fists and staring into Branko's eyes.

"I don't want you hurt! You've done too much for the former Yugoslavs to be hurt by any of us! Bosnia hurt you by kicking you out today; I'm going to protect you from further harm whether you like it or not!" He retorted. Branko shook his head.

"You're not protecting me, Serbia. You're preventing me from being with the person that I want to be with."

"Maybe I am. Maybe I'm not."

"You are, Serbia. You've never approved of Bosnia and I being together."

"And you expect me to change so simply?"

"Novak, it's been years since the war. Everything is over now; you've lost the wars. We're all independent now. You can get over yourself anytime now. You keep acting like you're still as strong as you used to be, but believe me, you're weak. You're a coward, only acting for your own benefit."

"How have I been acting for my own benefit? I went to Macedonia's and convinced him to talk with Bosnia, all for you! I want to see you happy, but in my opinion, Bosnia is not going to make you happy."

"I've been the happiest I've ever been when I've been with Bosnia. I love him, Serbia."

Novak's shock was evident, the blonde man having to take a few moments to speak once again.

"You love him?"

"Yes, Novak. I do. I-I've never told him, and I've found it hard to, seeing that I've wanted to take things slow for his sake... Loving him has given me more purpose than to just be a nation."

Serbia looked down and sighed heavily, running a hand over his face out of stress. "... You really love him?"

"Yes."

"... I guess... I guess I can't stop that then, huh? I know what it's like to lose love, and I don't want that happening to you... Bosnia's at the hospital, right?"

Montenegro nodded.

"I'll drive you there so you can talk with him... You two need to make things right."

"... Thank you, Novak..."

"You're welcome, Crna Gora. Now come on. Let's head to the hospital."

* * *

It was approching dawn by the time that Montenegro and Serbia reached Sarajevo, the first rays of the sun barely touching the hills surronding the old town.

Montenegro sat in the passengers seat of the car, his anxiousness growing as they got closer and closer to the hospital. What would happen when Bosnia saw him? Would the other man curse and scream, or turn away from Montenegro, frigid and closed off.

Branko had no true way of knowing how Zlatko would react, seeing as all his predictions he'd made up until now of what Bosnia would do in response to their break-up had been wrong.

He was so busy thinking of the what ifs, of the heart-crushing possibilities, that Montenegro didn't realize Serbia pulled into the hospital's parking lot and parked the car until the other man was waving a hand in front of his eyes and calling his name.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Serbia questioned, chewing at his lip slightly as he searched for any doubt in Montenegro's eyes.

Montenegro took a deep breath, his eyes hardening with determination. "Yes. I need to fix this."

Serbia nodded. "Alright."

With one more breath, Montenegro exited the car and walked into the hospital.

Walking down the halls of the hospital, Montenegro's heart beat faster and his hands got shakier. With every step, his mind begged him to turn around, but Branko knew he had to do this. Bosnia had to understand exactly what had gone on between him and Macedonia.

When he arrived at Bosnia's room, the door was shut. He lifted his hand to knock, but hesitated. Bulgaria was inside with Bosnia, most likely, and Branko knew that Apostle was going to take Zlatko's side with the situation at hand.

Taking in a deep breath and shoving back his fears, Montenegro rapped his knuckles upon the door. After a few moments, the door was opened, to reveal Bulgaria standing there. Apostle's brow furrowed and he stared at Branko in confusion.

"What're you doing here?" The Bulgarian man questioned.

"... I-I just want to talk with Bosnia." Branko replied shakily, struggling to meet the other nation's gaze.

"... He's resting right now. I'd rather not wake him up." Apostle glanced over his shoulder to Bosnia, who was still lying in bed, chest rising and falling slowly with each breath.

"I... May I see him? I only want to be here for him... I don't care if he hates me now; I'll always love him... I'll always care for him..."

Bulgaria sighed and nodded his head slightly, turning and walking back into the room. He stood next to the bed where Bosnia lay, looking at the broken man with a somber expression.

"This has to be resolved somehow... I hate seeing him so broken... He was saying your name while he slept, you know. I think he was having a nightmare... Something terrible, probably from his past, and... He was begging you not to leave him... I... I guess I acted as you would have, and told him I was here... He calmed down, and now I think he's at a more peaceful rest." The Bulgarian nation explained quietly. Montenegro silently walked over to Bosnia's side, holding back tears when he saw the bandages around Zlatko's wrists.

Branko gently grabbed a hold of the Bosnian's hand, rubbing his thumb across the man's knuckles oh-so softly. He didn't want to wake Zlatko. The sleeping nation was at rest, peaceful and relaxed. If Bosnia awoke to see Montenegro sitting beside him, holding his hand, how would he react? Would he shove Montenegro away, not wanting anything to do with the shorter man? Or would he accept the hand holding his, allowing Branko to talk things through?

It wasn't all that long before Zlatko moved slightly, opening his pale green eyes. The first thing he did, was glance to the hand that was holding his. He didn't even have to look at Montenegro to know the hand was his; it was one of the small details that he had memorized after so long. The feel of the other's soft hand against his own wasn't unfamiliar, but it shocked him in the situation he was in. He could only bring himself to mutter a single word.

"... Branko..."

"Branko," Bosnia muttered again, his eyes still sleep-hazy and his brain slow. The taller man pulled his hand back as his brain finally registered what his body already knew. A part of his mind protested the act, seeking the warmth Montenegro readily provided.

Montenegro, desperate for Bosnia to understand, for everything to be as it was before all of this, reached for Bosnia again. Zlatko flinched back as he saw Montenegro's approaching hand, making the other nation still his movements. Branko balled his hand into a fist where it was paused in mid-air, dropping it back into his lap.

There was a silence heavier than any of the words they exchanged before hanging over them now, bogged down with hurt and betrayal and heartache so heavy it was crushing them under its imposing weight.

"Get out," Bosnia demanded moments later, pale green gaze fixed on the too white blanket covering his body.

"Please, you have to let me - " Montenegro plead, fighting back his want to reach for Bosnia.

"I do not have to allow you to do anything," Zlatko replied sharply, bunching the rough material of the blanket in his fists in a desperate attempt to hold onto something solid.

"You're the best thing that ever happened to me. You make me happy in a way I've never been. You give me a purpose that is even greater than being a nation - "

"Stop. Just stop."

"I haven't told you this because I wanted to take things slow, but I'm going to say it now...Zlatko, I love you."

"No!" the Bosnian shouted suddenly, fixing furious green eyes on Montenegro. "You do not get to say that! Not after you made me...Made me..." Bosnia halted, his shoulders slumping as he curled in on himself.

"Made you what?" Branko asked, seeing the way the question set Bosnia off again.

"Feel! Nothing has hurt me this much since the war! And! And it is not supposed to hurt this bad! I have lived twenty years without anyone in my life...And then you come along...and...and...make me feel things I cannot even name anymore..."

"Zlatko," Branko whispered, reaching for the man again and meeting empty air as Bosnia stumbled out of his hospital bed.

The Bosnian caught his balance, flinching at the cold tile against his bare feet and the slightly nauseous feeling he got from standing too quickly. He stared at the Montenegrin from his position using the bed as a bridge between them, feeling an ache in his chest as he said his next words.

"Stop. Just stop trying to fix things between us. I do not need you. I was always better on my own. I am better on my own."

_Branko stood and took a few unsteady steps backwards towards the door, eyes wide, expression showing pain and confusion. He was about to turn around and leave the hospital, but as he turned, he bumped into a person standing silently in the doorway._

_"He just never learns, now, does he?"_

_It was Serbia._

_"N-Novak? What're you...?" Montenegro stammered, backing up slightly. Novak sighed._

_"I knew things weren't going to be easy... You love him, right?"_

_"Y-Yeah..."_

_"Well, allow me to defend your love for him and explain to that ungrateful bastard what kind of a mistake his making." Serbia cracked his knuckles and moved past the shorter Montenegrin, brow furrowed, emerald eyes staring angrily at Bosnia. Zlatko stood firmly at the other side of the bed, not fearing the approaching Serb._

_"Novak! Wh-What the hell are you doing?! Don't hurt him!" Branko pleaded, grabbing the back of Novak's shirt, only to have it shaken from his grasp._

_"Don't worry, Crna Gora. It won't hurt him." Serbia assured, before rushing up to Bosnia, grabbing the front of the other nation's shirt and slamming him up against the wall. Bosnia cringed only for a moment before glaring Serbia in the eyes._

_"Get your hands off of me, you psychopath." Zlatko ordered. Serbia chuckled, smirking slightly, before becoming serious, holding the Bosnian up against the wall tightly._

_"Listen here, you stupid, ignorant fuck." He snarled. "Can't you see that there's more than you here? You're more selfish than even me! What kind of an ego trip does it take to get to the low you're at? He fucking loves you, Zlatko! He cares enough for you to come to the hospital to visit you after you slit your own fucking wrists, even though he knew you would be this stingy! Does that not open your dull eyes? Does that not make you realize that he's the one who's been keeping you sane? You slit your wrists because he cheated, but you don't know what the fuck happened that night! Maybe if you would listen for once, your heart wouldn't be so hurt!" _

_Bosnia stared quietly back at the Serb, expressionless. Novak continued._

_"Montenegro, Crna Gora, Branko, whatever the fuck you want to call him; all he wants is to explain. But since you won't let him, I'll explain for him, now that I have your attention. Zlatkp Pilav, he never meant to be unfaithful. You know how you can get when people mention such things as, oh, I don't know, Srebrenica? When I had completely lost it and started going along with the JNA to kill your people? Your mind alters, goes into a state that just isn't normal. you want to hide and lock yourself away, scream to the gods that you pain in your head and in your chest goes away. For some of us, it's different. You've witnessed my own insanity. It just takes a few words to set off the time bomb in my head. I become something that is close to schizophrenic and psychotic."_

_"For Branko... His memories are more linked to feelings. To past events dealing with relationships. He went over to Macedonia's to merely speak with him as a friend. Macedonia, being the ever-charismatic man we all know him to be, flirted with Crna Gora, mentioning the past when they used to be together. With one touch of the hand, the portion of Montenegro's mind that controlled __his actions and thoughts reverted back to how it was such a long, long time ago. That's how Nikodemos got Branko to sleep with him. You think Crna Gora was in a completely fine state of mind when it happened, don't you? Well, think again. Tell me, Bosnia, before all this happened, did you care for Branko?"_

_Zlatko stiffened and clenched his fists tighter. "Does it matter now what I felt before?"_

_"Yes, it does, as a matter of fact! So, did you care? Or was it a facade? Were you really affectionate towards him because you cared, or was there an ulterior motive? Did you just want to crush his heart like yours was crushed so long ago? Did you just want someone else to feel your pain? Were you so selfish that you thought that everyone else had never felt anything close to what you've felt?"_

_"N-No, I-"_

_"If you weren't with him just to hurt him, then why were you!? Why did you let him in, when you easily could have stayed alone!?"_

_"I..."_

_"You what, Zlatko? You loved him?"_

_Bosnia's glare softened, and his vision shifted downwards, showing the other man that his statement was true. Serbia released the other nation, taking a step back and putting his hands on his hips._

_"You sicken me, Bosnia. You just plain sicken me. every fiber of your being screams out that you love him, but you let that one selfish, arrogant, negative part of you make every decision and action. Why?!" Novak shouted, furious, fists clenching. "Have you no self-control?! No shame?! You hurt the only person who truly loves you!"_

_Novak raised his hand back, about to strike Bosnia with a fierce punch, but when he thrust his hand forward, he struck someone that wasn't his target._

_Montenegro had rushed in front of Bosnia just in time, taking a brutal hit to the face all for the other man._

_"B-Branko!" Novak said, startled. Montenegro lifted his head to face the Serb, nose busted and bleeding. As the Montenegrin spoke, the red liquid dripped from his nose, running over his lips and chin, finding refuge on the floor which the drops landed on._

_"You can shove him... You can curse at him... You can scream and shout and cause a ruckus... But strike him down and swear to everything above, Serbia, you will regret it."_

The time between when Montenegro left and when he came back passed in silence. Bosnia was busy thinking, trying to sort all his chaotic thoughts into some kind of order that made sense to his brain. Bulgaria, meanwhile, was staring out the window of the hospital room, looking but not really seeing the early-morning bustle of life in the capital city as he tried to work out his own thoughts.

The door to the hospital room creaked open minutes later, both men turning to see Montenegro reenter the room. Silence hung for a moment longer between the three countries. Finally, the quiet was broken when Bulgaria rose from his uncomfortable seat with a sigh and stretched a bit.

"Right, well, I'll leave you two to talk. Zlatko, I hope you recover soon and I'll see you both at the next world conference."

"Apostle," Bosnia called as the man was about to step out of the room. Bulgaria turned, tilting his head in silent questioning. "I...Thank you."

Bulgaria simply smiled, nodding his welcome before leaving the room and shutting the door behind him. Montenegro took the seat Bulgaria had recently vacated,fiddling with his hands nervously.

"I think...I understand now," Bosnia said quietly, the whisper seeming almost too loud in the silent room

"You do?" Montenegro asked, reaching out tentatively for Bosnia's hand.

The other man accepted his hand after a moment of hesitation, gripping so gently the hold almost felt as if it wasn't there. But, the warmth of Bosnia's hand was solid and reassuring against Montenegro's, calming the heavy churning feeling in Montenegro's stomach.

"You did not mean to cheat on me. Your memories...are...are the same as mine, in a way. Only they're connected with your emotions. Whatever Macedonia said to you, whatever trigger he knew to push, set you off. You lost sight of yourself for a time. I know how that feels. I can understand...but...It still hurt. I have never known pain like that since the war, and I did not know how to react to it. I did not know why it hurt me so badly, considering all my previous struggles. I think I know now why it hurt so badly..."

Montenegro listened to Bosnia's speech, staying silent as his words trailed into silence. His heart beat quicker than before, pounding hard against his chest, and his blood rushed a bit faster through his veins. Zlatko took a deep, slightly shaky breath, and continued.

"I think...I...I am in love with you," Zlatko confessed, the words barely audible; but they stopped Montenegro's heart for a moment with the shear meaning of the words coming from the taller male.

"I am in love with you, too," Branko returned with the utmost confidence, feeling a bright smile turning up his lips. "I've been in love with you for more than twenty years now, Zlatko. Nothing can change that. Not what Serbia says and not what Macedonia does will every change how I feel for you. And...even if you choose not to give us another chance, I'll always care for you. I'll always love you. Above all, I'll always be there to support you as your friend."

Zlatko's hand tightened around his own. The Bosnian felt warmth seeping into his heart and thought perhaps this was what it felt like to finally open his heart to someone else after more than twenty years of isolation and fear.

"I...want to give us another chance," the Bosnian man said. "But, I am afraid of what could happen. We can both make promises, say that nothing will ever drive us apart, but nothing is ever certain. It will not be a perfect relationship. We will have our struggles and our arguments, as every couple does. I want you to understand that I am not going to make you any promises regarding this relationship. I will try to make this relationship work to the best of my ability..." He trailed off, not sure of what else to say.

"I don't need you to make me any promises, Zlatko," Branko reassured the other man. "I'm just happy that you gave me another chance after all this. I don't expect our relationship to be perfect and I don't want promises. I just want us to try our best to make this relationship work."

"I know I haven't always been the greatest person to be in a relationship with, but I will do my best to make this work."

Branko reached forward, cupping Bosnia's cheek in his hand. When the other man turned his head to look at Branko, he gave Zlatko a smile full of warmth and Zlatko felt his heart pound harder in response. Branko leaned forward, kissing Zlatko slowly, putting all the love he held for the man in the kiss.

They broke apart, touching their foreheads together and breathing in the same air. Branko couldn't keep the smile off of his face. Zlatko returned Branko's smile with one of his own, feeling contentment grow in his very being after the whirlwind of emotions he was put through in the last day.

"I love you," Branko whispered, touching their lips together briefly.

"I love you, too," Zlatko responded, glad, for once, to know he meant it.


End file.
